


Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way

by kouredios



Category: October Daye Series - Seanan McGuire
Genre: F/M, Meta, fluff with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5470418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kouredios/pseuds/kouredios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toby tries to take a vacation</p><p>The title, in the Shakespearean tradition of all Toby Daye titles, is from King Lear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Niamh_St_George](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niamh_St_George/gifts).



> This little story takes place between _The Winter Long_ and _A Red-Rose Chain_.

“TOBY! It’s time to go! Get your ass downstairs!”

My ersatz Fetch’s bellow echoed through the second floor of the spacious Victorian we shared. I groaned, and threw a couple more sweaters into my bag. The truth was, I was eager to go on this trip, but I couldn’t let her know that. I had a reputation as a cranky homebody to uphold.

“COMING!” I bellowed back, just as Tybalt opened the door so that I ended up shouting into his face. “Oops.”

“As much as I enjoy having your face close to mine in most circumstances,” my Cait Sidhe fiancé said with a sardonic twist to his lips, “I must protest the volume level of your voice.”

“Sorry Tybalt,” I muttered as I turned to zip up my duffel. “But May bellowed first. And you’re just too damned stealthy.”

“Indeed, as you’ve mentioned before. Are you prepared to depart? Arden will be opening the portal for us herself, and you do not want to make her wait.”

“Yep.” I swung the bag onto my shoulder, and stopped to give him a quick kiss. “Let’s hit the road.”

***

It wasn’t a case, for once, that had me leaving San Francisco. My friends and family had conspired to get me to take a break after the series of events that had Evening Winterrose return to life and try, once again, to control me. What is it with the Firstborn and their “turn Toby into a puppet” tendencies, anyway?

I didn’t actually put up much of a fight. Against Tybalt, Quentin, and May, I mean. I put up a hell of a fight against the Winterrose. And since it is still, technically, the holiday season, Tybalt suggested we retreat to a duchy he knew on the west shore of Lake Tahoe, where it actually looks like one of those Hallmark Christmas cards. I was finding that I didn’t actually mind the snow so much, now that Evening had fallen face down into a pile of it with elf shot in her back.

Just as long as there weren’t any candles. A roaring fire would be nice, though.

So the plan was to drive to Muir Woods where Arden would open a portal to Homewood, and we would meet up with the Duke of Homewood, Calder Swain.

***

“Tell me how you know Calder Swain again?” I asked Tybalt.

“I haven’t told you once; how could I possibly tell you a second time?” my own swain answered wryly. “I knew him a long time ago, in London. He came here some time before I did, and was instrumental in my establishment in these lands. His Duchy is a safe place for me, and it will be a safe place for you.”

“Good to know,” I responded, trying not to think too deeply about the millennia that Tybalt had lived through before I was even born, let alone knew him. All that mattered was that he was here, now, and mine. I knew the important things: that he had loved and lost before, that he was no longer pained by my (ever diminishing) humanity, and that he loved me.

Tybalt, May and I piled into the car. I was driving us to Muir Woods for the next leg of the journey, and May was there to drive the car back home afterwards. Tybalt deigned to ride in the back in his cat form, which he never would have done if May was the one driving us there.

After we had gotten going, and Tybalt had fallen asleep curled into a little ball, May turned to me with a serious look on her face.

“I’m really glad you agreed to take a break. You really, really need this, you know.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Yeah, sure. I know. Tybalt assures me that Homewood is one of the safest places he knows. I’m actually looking forward to a long weekend of skiing, cozy fires, and hot cocoa.”

“Good.” May crossed her arms and settled back into the passenger’s seat. “It will be a nice change from the past few months. Nothing dangerous, no missing children, and no Knight’s duties. Just relax, for once in your life.”

***

We got to Muir Wood in plenty of time, despite May’s bellowed warning and Tybalt’s concern. Arden didn’t say much before opening the portal to Homewood, not even to ask again whether we would consider her knowe for our wedding site. She just gave me a hug, muttered, “It’s about time someone convinced you to take a vacation,” and practically pushed me through the opening she created with her Tuatha-specific abilities.

We appeared to be on the edges of a snowy wonderland, the kind of blanketed ski resort you see in LL Bean catalogs or James Bond movies. There was a main lodge, and also little A-frame cabins that surrounded it in a horseshoe shape. I hoped this meant we could have a little cabin to ourselves. I had agreed to the vacation, but I wasn’t terribly interested in a whole lot of socializing with folk I didn’t know—especially fae folk I didn’t know.

A tall, attractive Daoine Sidhe with silver hair and beard, wearing a Fair Isle cardigan and corduroy pants walked toward me and Tybalt, arms outstretched. I blinked. “You know Santa Claus?” I muttered to Tybalt, just before the man got close enough to embrace us both.

Tybalt squeezed St. Nick, or, more likely, Calder Swain, with a chuckle. “Calder, my dear friend, may I introduce my betrothed: October Daye.” By this time the Duke of Homewood had let go of Tybalt and was holding me at arms’ length, a hand on each shoulder, as if inspecting me in advance to checking off “naughty” or “nice” after my name on his list. I couldn’t help it; I grinned at him. A feeling of warmth and welcome pervaded my bones, and I felt my body relax. 

“It’s wonderful to meet you, October,” Calder smiled at me. “I have never seen Rand so happy, and I have known him a good long time. You are both welcome here for as long as you like.”

“I appreciate that, sir,” I found myself wanting desperately for him to think I was a good person, and worthy. It wasn’t like the feeling of out-of-control subservience I had felt with Blind Michael, or with Evening. It was more like an inspiration to be my best self when I was in his presence. It was heady stuff, but it didn’t worry me. 

Calder signaled to two of his attendants. “Put them in the Hollyoak cabin, and see to it that they have everything they need. Tybalt, October: we will be having a dinner gathering in the main house in two hours. You are more than welcome to come, but you are just as welcome to keep to your cabin if that is your preference. Everyone at Homewood is free to do as they will to relax and be at their most comfortable. Just signal to one of the attendants what your plans are so that we can prepare enough seating and refreshment. I hope to see you again soon.” As he left, he held my hand with both of his and squeezed it. Then he was gone.

I glanced at Tybalt. He, too, looked happy and relaxed already. I grinned at him. “Let’s go see our digs, huh?” He smiled back and took my hand.

***

It was, unsurprisingly, flawless. A little wood cabin to ourselves, with a roaring fire already set, a giant bed, and a little ensuite bathroom with one of those blue painted porcelain bowls set as a sink. I flopped on the bed, shoes and all. “I think I’m going to like it here.”

“Are you going to want to join the large group for dinner?” Tybalt asked.

“Yeah, why not?” I answered. “But dinner isn’t for a couple of hours, right?”

He grinned at me, and pounced.

***

Some time later Tybalt and I emerged from our little cabin to trek across the snow-covered lawn to the main house. Arm in arm, we walked into a world of warmth and light. There was a bar far to the right, and someone was mulling cider; I could smell it. There was another roaring fire, five times the size of the one in our little room. Scattered throughout the great room people were reading books, playing chess, chatting. It was homey and social, but not overwhelming. It was perfect.

The “dinner gathering” wasn’t at all what I expected. There was no long banquet table, no servants passing plates. There was instead an array of dishes set on several side tables scattered throughout the room. People were filling their plates and settling all around the room. It was like a family reunion potluck, except that we hadn’t had to bring a thing. There was no pressure to talk to anyone we didn’t know if we chose not to. We could get some dinner and isolate ourselves in a corner if we liked. I was tempted. I’m not a huge fan of gatherings in the best circumstances, and these were pretty close. I opted for a couple of high wingback chairs close to the fire. Tybalt followed me dutifully.

I had gotten through the array of roasted meats, noodle salads, and sweet rolls and was starting on a lemon tart when I began to notice that I was under observation. I elbowed Tybalt and raised an eyebrow in the direction of the lurkers. At any other time and in any other place, I likely would have been sneaking off to flank the spies, unsheathing my knife as I went. At this time and place however, I beckoned to them. I was convinced, by both Tybalt and my own gut, that this was a safe place. Also, the people staring at us were a pair of teenage girls.

They looked startled and half-afraid, but stepped toward us in response to my beckoning. 

“Can I help you?” I asked, a forkful of tart still hovering close to my mouth.

“Um.” The amount of nervousness radiating off of them was starting to raise my concern level. I put my fork down and sat up straighter. One of them took a deep breath. “You’re Toby Daye, right?”

“In the overstressed, solid flesh,” I replied, breathing in quickly to see if I could determine her heritage. Changeling, certainly. There it is, half Barrow-wight, reminding me of Stacy. Especially because the second kid was certainly a Daoine Sidhe changeling, which I once thought myself to be. “And who are you?”

“I’m Isla,” the Daoine indicated herself, “And she’s Maisie.” Maisie nodded. “If you’re really Toby Daye, then we’d like to hire you.”

This time, both my eyebrows shot up, and I heard Tybalt give a snort. I smacked him on the knee. “I’m on vacation, actually. And I was under the impression that this was the safest, sanest Duchy in all of the Westlands. What could you possibly need my help for?”

Maisie looked at Isla nervously, as if for guidance. The Daoine nodded encouragement to her.

“I…uh…someone stole my phone.”

Tybalt and I exchanged a look. We both lived with teenaged boys, and were familiar with their tendency to report items as “stolen” the instant they were misplaced. “Honey,” I started slowly, not wanting to condescend too much, “Are you sure it’s not just lost?”

“Well, it might be lost,” Maisie conceded, surprisingly quickly. “But if it is, I still need your help finding it. It’s a bit of an emergency.”

“What could possibly be so important about your phone that you need to hire a private detective in order to find it?” I cocked my head at her. “I mean, I know your phone is probably your most important possession. I live with a teenager; I get it. But can’t you just get a new one? Isn’t all your important data saved to the ‘cloud’? Isn’t that what they call it?” I really have no idea. I still use a basic flip phone, and that just barely. Quentin and April have both been trying to get me to upgrade, but missing over a decade of recent technology advances have made me a slow adopter.

“Um,” Maisie stammered again, “Yeah, I guess I could, but there’s still the problem of what’s actually saved to the phone. And the problem of where I either lost it or it was stolen. See, uh, Isla and I have been taking a lot of selfies as…uh…our true selves. And we go to the local human high school. If someone gets into my phone, they’ll have concrete evidence of the existence of Faerie.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and Isla finished for her. 

“We really, really need you to get that phone back. All of Faerie needs you to get that phone back.”

***

“I can’t decide if I’m annoyed that they’re interrupting my safe, comfortable vacation, or glad they’re interrupting my safe, boring vacation,” I muttered to Tybalt as we followed the girls down the hill into town.

“It may depend on just how much excitement this little case leads to,” Tybalt also subvocalized. “It’s extremely unlikely to get as violent as your typical adventure; so that’s a kind of vacation for you in any case.” I snorted my agreement and shouted up to the girls, who were several steps ahead of us.

“How far is your high school from the knowe, anyway?” 

“It’s about a twenty minute car ride,” Maisie admitted. “We usually take the school bus; it’s supposed to be character-building.”

I groaned audibly. Tybalt shook his head. He couldn’t take all four of us through the Shadow Roads, and besides, he wasn’t familiar enough with the area to feel confident about getting us directly to the high school. That meant calling a cab, and Danny, my preferred fae cab driver, was two hundred miles away.

“Don’t worry!” Isla cheerfully interrupted. “I have a car.”

“Because we don’t need to be building character right now. Excellent,” I sighed. “Lead the way.”

***

The ride up to the North Tahoe High School was a bit surreal. All of the nervousness and fright had drained out of the girls as soon as we had left the knowe. The twenty-minute ride largely consisted of a game of Twenty Questions, as Isla and Maisie grilled both me and Tybalt on our lives, habits, and friends. They knew a remarkable lot about us already.

"What's Amandine like?"

"Is May really a Fetch? Like, still? Can she die?"

"How tall is Quentin now? He's still your squire, right?"

"Do you really know the Luidaeg? Is she going to kill you someday?"

"Tybalt, what exactly is the procedure for becoming a King of Cats? Can you describe the fight with Raj's father? In detail?"

I tolerated their questions, and answered them as much as I felt comfortable doing—which wasn’t much. Tybalt refused to answer any of them at all. And then a thought occurred to me, as we were just getting to the parking lot. "Is your phone one of the ones supplied by ALH?" 

Maisie nodded, "We all use their phones." Out of the corner of my eye I saw Isla glare at her, as if Maisie had said too much.

"Then aren't there safeguards on your phones to protect them from human inspection?" I thought April had added that feature to the last batch of upgrades.

"We, uh, haven't done an upgrade in a while," Isla answered. "We didn't want it to mess with our settings."

"Uh-huh. Hang on a sec." I dialed April. Maybe I could finish this little case without even having to do some kind of locker search.

"Hello Toby," April answered breezily. "It has been some time since we communicated. Can I help you in some way?"

"Hi April, yes." I looked over at the girls, who were starting to fidget nervously. "Do you have a record of a phone registered to a Maisie in Homewood?" I put my hand over the speaker for a second. "What's your last name Maisie?"

"Ducort," Maisie squeaked. I was starting to have my suspicions about this whole outing.

"Maisie Ducort. April, is it possible for you to track her phone for me? She's asked me to help her locate it, and it just occurred to me that this might be a thing you can do."

"Absolutely, Toby. Just give me a second. Yes, there it is. In fact, Toby, it seems there is little to no reason why you would need that phone tracked. It is in the very same vicinity as the one from which you are calling me. I can lock it down to within a yard."

"I see. April, you may have just saved my vacation. I owe you one." I hung up the phone and leveled a stern look at the girls. "I'm beginning to think this phone isn't really lost OR stolen."

Isla frowned, but Maisie burst into tears. "Oh, Ms. Daye, we're so sorry! We didn't mean anything by it! We just wanted a chance to get to know you and Tybalt! We're such huge fans!"

Fans? I have fans? _We_ have fans?

***

Five days later, after Tybalt and I had made it back home, both rested and rejuvenated, I related the story to Quentin. He listened to the whole thing, mouth agape at the end.

"What in the world possessed them to take you on this wild goose chase?" he asked as I concluded.

"Apparently they're part of an online community who share original stories about the books, TV shows, movies, and real people that they're fans of. They were actually trying to do a little research for their next story exchange. Once I got over being annoyed at being removed from my comfy chair in front of the fire at the lodge, I found it kind of flattering."

Quentin chuckled at my preening. "Better be careful, Toby. Celebrity isn't all it's cracked up to be, believe me." 

I threw a pillow at my squire, the Crown Prince of the Westlands, and left him to pour myself another cup of cocoa. I wouldn't read their stories, but it was nice to know they were out there.


End file.
